The Seigaku Years
by JYLG
Summary: A MomoRyo piece. So he pursued tennis with a single-mindedness that should have allowed room for nothing else.


Disclaimer: I don't own PoT. I have more than enough of my share of the insanity. 

A Momo/Ryo piece.

He was twelve going on thirteen and nothing else mattered more than tennis. Maybe his debut in Seigaku's tennis club was the spectacular arrogance some still muttered about, maybe not. Maybe he was presumptuous for a first-year, maybe not. As long as he played, it was enough for him.

The rumours spilled out of the tennis club into the inter-junior high games. Some talked of his age and small frame. Matches later most talked of the first-year Seigaku regular that had yet to lose. Maybe it would have been different if he had joined another school, maybe not. As long as he played, it didn't matter. So he pursued tennis at Seigaku with a single-mindedness that allowed room for little else, and likely would have been contented with that if the other regulars had been of the same mindset, but not all of them were. 

He liked burgers and ice cream well enough, but twelve years in a country swollen with them created a better appreciation of fare as par his Japanese roots. For that reason Kawamura-sempai and his father's sushi outlet rated higher in his esteem than Momo-sempai and his insatiable craving for fat and sugar. But he didn't mind the latter much, when he would have otherwise returned home to an insolent father and another frustrating game. And nothing else mattered more than tennis, but he was twelve going on thirteen, and only a fool would decline food on someone else's tab.

And because nothing else mattered more than tennis, he didn't mind when they didn't have club practice, and Momo-sempai insisted that it was lame to go to the street courts alone. He didn't want to play doubles with the second-year again, but some evenings the packed courts allowed only for pairs or a long, tedious queue otherwise, and he rather it was with his sempai; that way, it was easier to mutter about incompetent play and get away with it. They never lost again after the first time, because he refused to be handicapped, and he watched Momo-sempai long enough to anticipate and adapt to his playing style and body language on the court.

But Momo-sempai had always been obvious to begin with, and he didn't think he was the only person in the club who could guess what the second-year felt after falling out of the regular line-up. But he also knew that the older teen would come back with a vengeance. It took longer than he had anticipated though, and it was slightly irritating that his confidence in Momo-sempai had been misplaced, never mind how insignificant the detail.

He had Inui-sempai and his data book to blame on the day he turned thirteen, and all the club members knew when Kikumaru-sempai glomped him in true loud, enthusiastic fashion. He suffered the obligatory well wishes and pats on the head with reluctant obedience, but braced himself at Momo-sempai's approach. He wasn't jerked off his feet this time by the resounding slap to his back, and the free burgers after practice almost made up for Momo-sempai's lament about not knowing soon enough to put together some really evil scheme.

He continued to pursue tennis, but not with so much a single-mindedness that he was not jarred by their captain's abrupt announcement of his departure to Germany. And he understood with alarming clarity that time spared nothing for the constant in his life that was tennis, that though Tezuka-buchou had affirmed his return, the year would end and the Seigaku tennis club would lose six talented players to senior high school. But as long as he played, nothing else mattered, because Seigaku would not fall. And he thought to himself, it's okay, one more year.

He was thirteen going on fourteen when Kaidou-sempai was nominated as captain, and he wondered whether Ryuzaki-sensei was finally going senile for making Momo-sempai vice. The first-years stared and the second-years sighed and the third-years held them back, but it was good enough that they agreed on the most crucial thing, so Seigaku continued to thrash other junior high tennis teams and prosper. 

If possible Kaidou-sempai was harder on the club members than Tezuka-buchou had been, and practices were fierce tennis sessions that made his blood sing and his nerves hum with the challenge. And gruelling as the training was, he was still buoyant and tense by the end, and he continued to follow Momo-sempai to the street courts. 

He welcomed them on the court, letting his tennis feed into the sensation, but where matches came and went, the emotions clung stubbornly to him, shaking him at times with their force, and uneasiness settled like another ragged layer, because they shook him when Momo-sempai watched him intently while he played, or took him out for dinner, or needled him for tutoring in English.

On the day he turned fourteen there was no lurking Inui-sempai or practice, and his school bag zipped shut with a sound too definitive and severe for his liking. The emotions clung to him almost listlessly, and the notion that emotions could have emotions made him roll his eyes as he stepped into his shoes and out the doors, only to pause at the top of the steps. He was buoyant and he was tense and Momo-sempai grinned at him smugly in a no-I-didn't-forget way, and they were still roughly on eye level even though he had grown a bit and the third-year was standing two steps down. He glared back in a do-I-want-to-know way but didn't bother to ask, because he had adapted a long time ago to his sempai's style and language.

It wasn't burgers this time, but a trendy, definitely expensive Japanese affair, but he said nothing because only a fool would decline food on someone else's tab. And they talked about the club, about Seigaku, about the third-year exams, and the uneasiness soaked a little deeper into his skin. And he thought to himself, it's okay, half a year more. 

He continued to pursue tennis, but the exams loomed close, and the third-years stopped coming to practice in favour of study, and he wondered if Momo-sempai was making proper use of the extra time on his hands. Exactly fourteen practices later the third-years and Kaidou-sempai's intimidating instructions returned, but sessions were almost festive. Seven practices later the club members finally threw their hands up in jubilant farewell after their captain's last address, but watching the vice-captain in the background smile with wistful pride, he only felt uneasy.

The year came to an end, and the Seigaku tennis club lost its captain and vice-captain to senior high school. But he refused to be handicapped by his emotions, and on the day of the graduation ceremony, they were not standing on the steps of the school, and it was slightly irritating that he had to lean up to reach. But Momo-sempai grinned at him smugly and leaned down again to meet him, and he was buoyant and tense, but he was no longer uneasy.

He was fourteen going on fifteen when he was nominated captain of the tennis club, and he was just as hard on the club members as Kaidou-sempai had been. But as gruelling as the training was, he was still buoyant and tense by the end, and he could still meet with an old sempai for burgers after practice.   


End file.
